


Silver Bullets and Broken Dreams

by BleedingHeart03



Series: Raxella Brex - Courier Six [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Caesar's Legion, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Lesbian Character, NCR | New California Republic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Relationships will come later, Tags and rating will probably change, idk how to tag this, its my first fanfic please be nice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 12:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17141504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingHeart03/pseuds/BleedingHeart03
Summary: Who knew being a mail courier was so dangerous?





	Silver Bullets and Broken Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to one of my friends for proof reading this. I’m on Tumblr at @metal-gear-rrex  
> Updated 1/22/2019 to add more and because I didn’t like the mix of past and present tense

On the night of July 27th, 2281, the little town of Goodspring awoke to a scream coming from their very own graveyard. Some of its newer residents didn’t think much of it, thought it was just the usual raider gangs fighting, and went back to sleep. Some simply slept through it. But long time residents knew this wasn’t one of the normal cries of rage that usually came for the chemed-up psychos that fought in the dead of the night. This was a scream of terror, a howl of pain, a plea for life. And the whirring of a single mechanical wheel against the sand, the banging on the doctor’s door, carrying a limp, lifeless, yet still twitching body, only solidified this claim that the sound came from someone much more innocent.  
-  
-  
-  
_Screaming, burning, gunshots. Running, out of breath. Someone was on the ground, saying something she couldn’t hear. Her mother, calling her name. “Go.” She was crying, shaking her head, no no no. “Please, go. Leave me. I’m already gone.”_

She awoke with a start, gasping for air, trying to sit up on the hard mattress beneath her. There was a sharp, throbbing pain in her head, forcing her to lay back down. The woman groans, holding a hand up to her head, feeling thick bandages wrapped around it. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there,” a voice comes from beside her. “You’ve been out cold a while now. Didn’t know if you’d wake up at all.”

She looks to her left. Sitting on a stool beside her bed is a balding man, his remaining hair thin and gray. He was looking down at her with concern. He helps her sit up, leaning her against a wall. Her head throbs from the effort. 

“Here, drink this,” he says, handing her a cup. She looks down at its contents. “Just some water. Not the most pure but we take what we get.” She takes a sip, reveling the way it wet her dry throat. She gulps the rest of it down. The man beside her chuckles. “Thirsty? Bet you’re hungry, too. Here, eat this.” He holds out a piece of bread. She takes it from him, eating it in small bites. When she‘s done she looks back up at him. “Good to see you still have an appetite. Now, let’s see if you can still talk. Can ya say anything?”

She tries to speak, unable to make any noise at first. After a few moments, she gets the words out. “Wh- Where am I?” Her voice sounds wrong, but she didn’t know how it was supposed to sound. “Who are you? What happened?”

“Of course, how rude of me. I’m Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings. A couple a weeks ago someone shot ya head, twice. You’re lucky to be alive. Victor brought you to me, said he found ya buried in the ground. But let’s not focus on that right now. Why don’t you take a look at yourself, see if everything’s still how it should be.”

Doc Mitchell hands her a mirror, dirty and dusty but still clean enough to see herself in. She holds it up, turning her head from side to side, studying herself. Two parallel scars run up the right side of her face, starting at her jaw and ending right below her check bone. She runs her fingers along then, feeling the way they raised up from the rest of her face. She looks into her eyes, dark and steel gray. Her forehead is wrapped in the bandage she’d felt earlier, it’s stark white color contrasting against her black hair. 

“Let me get that off ya,” the doc says, reaching over and undoing the wrap as she watches in the mirror. This action reveals a another scar. Two really, made from bullets, overlapping on the left side of her head, close to her hairline. These ones looked new, fresh. She glances up at the doc, and he nods. “Yep, that’s where you got shot. Everything look how you remember it? Hope I didn’t mess ya up.” The woman nods, unsure how to tell him that something about her face looks wrong but she couldn’t quite place it. “Great. Now let’s see how much you remember. What’s your name? Can you tell me that?”

And that’s when it finally hits her. Why her voice sounded strange, why she didn’t recognize her own face. She couldn’t remember. Couldn’t remember anything. Not the dream she was having just minutes earlier. Not even her own name. She feels tears start to well up in her eyes, threatening to cascade down her face. “I-“ her voice cracks. “I don’t know.” And then the barrier broke, the tears starting to flow down her face. “I don’t know anything! I don’t even know my own fucking name!” she cries, dropping her facing into her hands. She starts sobbing, unable to control her shaking. 

Doc Mitchell reaches over and puts his hand on the woman’s shoulder. She jumps at the contact. “Sorry,” he whispers. Then, slightly louder, he says, “It’s okay. You don’t have to know right now. If you remember later you can tell me. And if you never remember, well, we can get ya a new name.”

She sniffs and looks up at him. “But what will I do? I don’t remember anything. Where will I go? I don’t have a life anymore.“

“Don’t worry about that. I know this must be hard for you but if you keep stressing about it its just gonna make it worse. Now, why don’t we get you up and walking?”

With much effort, Doc Mitchell gets the woman on her feet. The action makes her dizzy, and she takes a few moments to hang on to the doctor’s shoulder, steadying herself. When she finds her balance, she gives him a brief nod, staring at her feet as if to make sure they don’t move. 

“Good, good. Why don’t you walk over to that Vigor-Tester over there? Take it slow, now. This ain’t a race.”

She takes a tentative step forward, almost losing her balance. When she is sure she won’t fall, she continues walking. She makes in to the Vigor-Tester in about a minute, then stands by it, leaning against the wood so that she doesn’t fall. 

Doc Mitchell hums in approval. “Why don’t you try it out? Should give us a good idea of how well everything’s working.”

A few minutes later the machine spits out a score, consisting of 7 attributes. The woman looks over them. She scores a 3 in both strength and endurance. 6’s in intelligence and luck. 7’s in charisma and agility. Her highest score was perception, with an 8. 

Doc Mitchell reads the scores of her shoulder. “Yep, that’s a fairly standard score. You got some damn good eyesight though, that’s for sure. Why don’t ya come this way? You can sit down and I’ll ask ya some questions.”

The woman follows him into another room. In the middle were a couch and chair, set up so they were facing each other. The doc motions for her to sit on the couch, then sits down in the chair. When she is seated, he starts asking her questions. At first he holds up pictures of black dots on yellowed canvas and asks what she sees. Then he gives her statements and asks how much it sounded like something she’d say. Finally, he says a word and she says the first thing that came to mind. 

“All right. This is the last one, okay?” he says. She nods. “Mother.”

“Regret,” she replies instantly. As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wished they hadn’t, from the pitying look Doc Mitchell gives her. She doesn’t even know why that is what comes to her first. 

“Well, that’s it,” the doctor says, standing up. “I’ll walk ya to the door and you can get out of here. Probably tired of this place after being stuck here for a couple a weeks.” He holds out his hand, helping her up. 

As they walk, the woman asks questions about the town and the man answers. They stop in front of the door, Doc Mitchell handing her some supplies, new clothes, weapons, and even something called a Pip-Boy that he helps secure to her wrist. He also gives her what she had on her when she was brought in. It wasn’t much, just a few caps and a notes. 

Finally, the woman asks a question that had been weighing on her mind for a while. “Do you know anything about the man that shot me?”

“All I know is that the bullets I pulled outa ya were nice and shiny silver. Musta been some real rich fella. He probably came from the strip. You could also try asking Victor, he found ya. Or Trudy. She runs the saloon.”

“Thanks,” she replies, turning towards the door. 

“No problem. It’s what I’m here for. If ya need anything else, or that head starts acting up on ya, just come see me,” he tells her, starting to walk away. 

She is about to leave when she stops, hand on the doorknob. “Wait, Doc Mitchell.”

“Hmmm?”

She turns to him, a shy, almost nervous, smile on her face. “I, um, I think I remember my name. It’s...well it’s Raxella. But I, uh, I think I like to be called Rax.”

“Well, Rax, it was nice to meet you. Unfortunately circumstances, yes. But I have a feeling you’re going to do some real good for the wasteland.”

Rax smiles to herself as she pushes the door open, stepping out into the bright midday sun. She glances quickly around the new world before her, takes another careful step forward, still unsure on her feet, and pulls the door shut behind her. She takes a deep breath, lungs filling with air that smells like sand and heat and something else that she doesn’t know. She laughs quietly, then says to no one, not even herself,

“That bastard’s gonna be sorry he shot me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Idk how often this will update or how long it will be but it will probably be kinda long. Thanks for reading this!!!


End file.
